What is Happening?
by RavieSnake
Summary: She was simply sitting next to him. On a couch at a party. And he just put his hand on her leg. EWE. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters/concepts from it. I make no money from the writing/publishing of this story.**

.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

.

Flip-flop.

Hermione looked down at the hand.

It was definitely there. On her leg.

She made a point not to react to it as she covertly glanced over at the owner of the hand that was resting almost possessively on her knee.

He was staring straight ahead, watching the telly. Did he even realize what he'd just done?

Hermione quickly scanned the others in the room and found them all too engrossed in their own conversations and merriment to notice the situation she was now in.

She was sitting next to Draco Malfoy on a couch at a party and he'd just put his hand on her leg.

But he had yet to even acknowledge her presence. He'd simply sat in the empty space beside her and, after a minute of friendly chatter with another patron in an adjacent chair, had settled back into the cushions, turned his attention to the Muggle television before him and then placed his hand on her leg.

He didn't move it. Didn't rub or feel or squeeze. Nothing. It just rested there as if he'd done it a million times. As if it were the most normal thing in the world to do.

Hermione gave the hand one last glance and then focused her eyes on the television.

What was she supposed to do? Should she move her leg? Draw his attention? Make eye contact? Say something? Get up? Put her hand on his?

Her stomach gave another flip-flop at the last thought.

His hand felt warm through the denim of her jeans. And heavy, but not intrusive. It actually felt…nice?

Flip-flop.

What the hell was happening? Why was he just sitting there with his hand on her? His thumb made a gentle swipe up and down.

Flip-flop, flip-flop.

This was so bizarre. Exhilarating even. Things like this didn't happen every day. So much to consider.

He wasn't really an enemy any longer. Though certainly not a friend. He'd not said more than two words to her since they'd graduated. In fact, this was the first time she'd been this close to him in years. As far as she knew he still held a strong dislike of her. She hadn't really given him a second thought until this very moment.

Flip-flop.

Her face was starting to flush. This was actually rather intense. The inexplicableness was overwhelming. Her imagination was lurching. Did he harbor a _thing_ for her? Was this a ploy? Was this a dare? Was this a mistake? Was this genuine?

Did Draco Malfoy WANT to have his hand on HER leg?

Flip-flop.

Hermione swallowed hard as she threw caution to the wind and turned her head completely to look at him. His thumb moved again.

Her heart was pounding. Her chest tightened. Her mind reeled.

He still said nothing, still did nothing more than watch the random film that was playing.

She flexed her fingers at her side and bit her lip. She started to lift her arm.

He abruptly stood up then, gently pushing off of her leg as he did so, and walked away without a look back.

Hermione gaped after his retreating form until it disappeared from her line of vision and then glanced down at her leg.

It felt cold and abandoned.

What the hell had just happened? Why was she so flustered? Why did she suddenly feel rejected? Why did she want that hand back? Draco's hand? Why did she just think of him as _Draco_?

Hermione swallowed uncomfortably and shrunk down into the couch. She cast her eyes around nervously. Who had seen? Where was Ginny and Harry? How were there so many people she didn't know at this party?

"I'm being ridiculous," she finally said out loud to herself. And she was. It was either an absentminded action that meant nothing or a poorly thought-out and deliberate attempt to fluster her. Either way she shouldn't put even one more second of thought into it.

It had only been a hand on her leg.

Draco Malfoy's hand. His warm hand. The hand that felt nice. That made her stomach flutter.

"I need to leave." Hermione made her unheard announcement to the room as she pushed herself up from the couch and headed for the door of the flat. She faltered in her steps.

Draco was leaning nonchalantly right beside the door as he conversed genially with a woman Hermione vaguely recognized from the Ministry. He paused and looked up.

The glance was fleeting. So fast it might not have happened. But sparkling grey eyes met brown with a wink before shifting back to the woman.

Flip-flop.

Hermione sucked in a breath and stood there rather dumbly as she watched them chat until the woman excused herself back into the fray of the party. Draco smiled after the woman as she walked away.

Flip-flop.

Hermione's hands clutched at her stomach. That flutter had burned. No. It _seared._ What the bloody hell was wrong with her?

She closed her eyes as she took several steady breaths. She needed to get control of herself. This was becoming absurd. It had only been a simple touch.

Flip-flop.

Hermione opened her eyes to see Draco staring directly at her.

Flip-flop.

Definitely at her. His gaze was intense. Wanting even.

Flip-flop, flip-flop.

She cleared her throat and licked her lips. "Ma-Malfoy," she managed with an inclined nod of acknowledgement. Draco smirked.

Flip-flop, flip-flop, flip-flop.

He raked a hand through his hair. The same hand that had been on her mere minutes before. Hermione's eyes tracked it as it tousled his blond strands to fall haphazardly over his brow. The brow on his face. His face with flawless skin and chiseled jawline and… Wait, what? When did Draco Malfoy become so attractive? Had he always been this fit?

He opened his mouth. Had he said something? Shit, what did he say? The sound of her heartbeat was too loud in her ears. And was it hot in here? Why was it so warm?

"I'm sorry?" Hermione nearly gasped out.

Draco's eyes bore into her. "So, Weasley's finally out of the picture," he said. It wasn't a question.

Hermione's fingers splayed out over middle as the flutter spread into a new, entirely different kind of burn. She nodded.

His smirk never faltered. "This party is boring," he said. "Do you like sushi?"

The burn intensified. She nodded again.

Draco opened the door without hesitation, his movements smooth and fluid, and waved a hand in invitation to accompany him out.

Hermione blinked at him another moment before her feet propelled her forward, seemingly of their own volition. Her mind raced as her body moved mechanically toward the door.

This was peculiar. This was irrational. What was she doing!? Harry and Ginny wouldn't know where she'd gone. She hadn't thanked the host of the party yet. Draco Malfoy had just invited her out. _The_ Draco Malfoy. The same Draco Malfoy who'd bullied her for years. The same who'd reformed himself after the war. The same who'd randomly put his hand on her. The same who was suddenly looking too sexy to be real. The same Draco Malfoy who was still smirking.

Flip-flop.

She felt him set his hand to the small of her back as he followed her out into the night.

It was warm through her shirt. It focused the burn into her pounding heart as her stomach gave another lurch.

It was just a hand. Just a touch. But nothing had ever felt more right.

Flip-flop.


End file.
